“Did he bring my presents?” Kate sprang off her mother’s lap and ran toward Sam, still standing near the door.
Charles joined her, gazing up at the man with hopeful eyes.
“Santa wanted me to tell you he left plenty of gifts at your Grandma Gibson’s house, Kate, but he didn’t want you to worry that he’d missed you, so he dropped this off.” He thrust his arm into the pillowcase and produced a wrapped box.
Matt recognized it right away as one he’d seen poking out of Cathy Norris’s carry-on bag when she’d removed the tin of cookies.
“I believe this one is for you, Charles,” Sam said. The second gift went to the four-year-old. The boy raced back to his parents and dropped to his knees. He tore into the wrapping paper, scattering pieces in all directions. The minute Charles saw the rubber dinosaur, he cried out in delight and hugged it to his chest.
Kate, on the other hand, opened her present with delicate precision, carefully removing the ribbon first and placing it on the tree. Next came the wrapping paper. Matt couldn’t figure out how she did it, but she managed to pull off the Christmas wrap without tearing it even once. When she saw the Barbie doll, she looked up at her mother and smiled wonderingly.
“Daddy must have given it to Santa. This is what I told him I wanted.”
“I’m sure he did.” Elise was gracious enough to concur.
Matt didn’t know what had gone wrong in this woman’s marriage, but it wasn’t difficult to see the pain that divorce had brought into her life. Could bring into his own, if he allowed it to happen.
Cathy and the elderly couple exchanged smiles that their small ploy had worked. Actually Matt was touched by their generosity; they’d obviously given up Christmas presents meant for their own grandchildren.
He wasn’t sure what prompted the idea, but he reached for his briefcase. “As a matter of fact, Santa left a few goodies with me, too. Is anyone interested in a sample of the latest software from MicroChip International?”
It didn’t take long to discover that a number of people were.
“Are you sure, man?” the ex-hippie asked. “This is worth a good two hundred bucks in the store.”
“Five hundred, actually,” Matt said. “Consider it compliments of the company.”
“We’ve got extra pictures of the baby, if anyone would like,” Nick offered.
“Sure,” Len said. “Amy—my fiancée—is crazy about babies.” He took one and so did Cathy, Elise and several others.
As had happened earlier with the food, a variety of gifts, some wrapped and others not, started to appear. The joking and laughter continued during the impromptu gift exchange. By the end, everyone had both given and received at least one gift.
Sam, who’d stayed in the background most of the day, stepped forward with a worn Bible in his hand. “This being the night of our Savior’s birth,” he said, “I thought we might like to listen to the account of the first Christmas.”
Most people nodded in silent agreement. Sam pulled out a chair and set it close to their Christmas tree, then perched a pair of glasses on his nose.
The room hushed as he began to read. His rich resonant voice echoed through the depot. Everyone listened with an attentiveness Matt found amazing.
When he’d finished, Sam reverently closed the Bible and removed his glasses, tucking them into his shirt pocket. “It seems to me that we all have something in common with Mary and Joseph. They, too, were weary travelers and there wasn’t any room for them at the inn.” He paused and held up one hand. “I checked earlier and every room in this town has been booked for the night.”
There were grins and murmurs at his remark. Sam got to his feet and sang the first words of “Silent Night.” Everyone joined in, their voices rising in joyful sound. Matt thought he’d never heard anything so achingly beautiful, so…sincere.
As the last line died away, Sam walked over to the wall and turned out the light. The room went dim, but the outside lights cast a warm glow into the station’s interior.
“It’s nine o’clock,” the ex-hippie announced. “I haven’t been to bed this early in twenty years, but I’m more than ready to hit the hay.”
His wife giggled. The two of them cuddled awkwardly on the hard bench, kissing and whispering.
Matt felt a pang of regret at seeing the closeness they shared, a closeness so sadly lacking in his own marriage. He glanced at his watch, certain that Pam would be home now, probably seething about the brief message he’d left. Nevertheless he wanted to talk to her. No, he corrected himself, he needed to talk to her.
Light from the window guided him to the far wall of the station, to the phones. Because it was still early, people continued to talk. He slipped his credit card through the slot and waited for the line to connect.
Pam answered on the first ring. “Hello.” Her clipped tone told him she was angry, as he’d expected.
“It’s Matt,” he said.
“Matt?” She paused. “Matt?” she said again. “Where—”
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered.
“How can you ‘Merry Christmas’ me with the kids screaming in my ear? Your parents are due any minute, and the house is a mess. The cat tipped over the Christmas tree and you’re…you’re…” She burst into tears.
“Pam,” he said softly. “Honey, don’t cry.”
“I can’t help it! I suppose you’re in some posh hotel, ogling the cocktail waitress, while I’m here—”
“I’m not in any hotel.”
“Then where are you?”
“A hundred-year-old train depot with…” Now it was his turn to pause. “With friends who were strangers not that long ago.”
“A train depot?” She sniffled and sounded unsure.
“It’s a long story and I’ll tell you about it when I get home.”
“You didn’t phone all week.”
“I know and I’m sorry, sweetheart, really sorry. It was childish and silly of me to let our argument stand in the way of talking to you and the kids.”
“You haven’t called me sweetheart in a long time.”
“Too long,” Matt said. “I’ve done a lot of thinking these past few days, and once I’m home I want to talk to you about making some changes.”
“I’ve been a terrible wife,” she sobbed into the phone.
“Pam, you haven’t. Now stop. I love you and you love me, and we’re going to make it, understand?”
“Yes,” she mumbled, her reply quavery with emotion.
“Listen, I want you to think about two things.”
“Okay.”
“First, I want to quit my job.” Not until he said the words did Matt recognize how right it was to leave MicroChip. He should have known it when he was passed over for a promotion he’d earned. Being undervalued and underappreciated had cut into his self-confidence, and inevitably, his dissatisfaction with his job had affected his family life. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow that to continue.
“Quit your job?” Pam gasped.
“It isn’t as bad as it sounds. I’m going to send out a couple of feelers right after New Year’s. I’ve got a good reputation in the industry. I can get something else. The main thing is that I spend more time at home with you and the kids. It’s unfair to have you chained down with all the responsibility for them and the house while I travel. I’m going to be looking for a sales position that won’t take me away for more than a day at a time.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“The other thing we need is a vacation, just the two of us. I’ve got vacation time coming, and it’s been far too long since you and I got away without the kids.”
“I’d love that, Matt, more than anything.”
“How about a Caribbean cruise?” he suggested.
“Yes…Oh, Matt, I love you so much and I’ve felt so awful about the way our marriage has been going.”
“Me, too. We’ll talk about that some more. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to see a counsel
or, either.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Over the phone Matt heard a chorus of background shouts.
“Your parents just arrived,” Pam told him.
“Let them wait. I want to say Merry Christmas to my wife.”
Eight
“Silent Night”
C athy made up a small bed for herself using the blankets and pillows the VFW Women’s Auxiliary had distributed. By all rights, she should be exhausted. She’d been up since dawn and the day had been filled with uncertainty and tension.
Instead, she lay with her eyes wide-open, mulling over the events of the past twenty-four hours. Apparently she wasn’t the only one having difficulty sleeping. Matt, the sales rep, had carefully made his way across the darkened room and used the phone. It could be her imagination, but his steps seemed lighter on the return trip, as though his mood had improved. Cathy felt pleased for him. She’d lost patience with him earlier, and later…well, later, he’d proved to be an ally and a friend.
She’d witnessed more than one transformation today. The young sailor had been nervous and excited about this trip home; he’d chattered like a five-year-old when they’d first started out.
Then troubles developed, and he’d withdrawn into himself. But over the next few hours, Cathy had watched as Len recovered from his disappointment and frustration. Before the night was over he’d been an encouragement to others.
Nick and Kelly, the young couple with the newborn, were struggling to be good parents and still hold on to the closeness they’d once had in their marriage. Those two reminded Cathy of Ron and her about thirty years ago, after the birth of their first daughter. Eventually, like most couples, Nick and Kelly would learn to work together and ease gracefully into parenthood.
Sam and Louise had kept to themselves all day, offering no advice and little comment until Cathy shared her shortbread cookies. It was then that they’d kindly come forward and contributed their oranges. Later Sam had read the Christmas story from the Bible in a way that had stirred her beyond any Christmas Eve church service she’d ever attended.
She thought again of Matt McHugh. In the beginning he’d been quite disagreeable. Easily irritated, his few remarks cynical. One would assume that as a seasoned traveler he’d be better able to deal with frustrations of this sort. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case until…Cathy couldn’t put her finger on the precise moment she’d noticed the change in him. About the time they’d decorated the tree, she decided, when he’d opened his briefcase and started folding and clipping memos into paper snowflakes. She’d sensed a genuine enthusiasm in him from that point on.
Cathy had been just as affected by the unusual events of this Christmas Eve as her fellow passengers. That morning, when she’d phoned for a taxi in the middle of the snowstorm, she hadn’t been looking forward to the trip. She’d dreaded it less, however, than spending the holiday alone in the house where she’d lived all those years with Ron.
She’d known Christmas would be difficult. After living first with the approach of death and then the aftermath of it, she’d anticipated nothing but pain and loneliness during the Christmas season. And she’d been right. But today, for the first time since standing over her husband’s grave, she’d experienced what it meant to be alive. Sharing, encouraging, laughing. Damn, but it felt good.
“Are you awake?” Matt whispered from the bench directly across from her.
“Yes. You, too.” She smiled at the obviousness of the comment.
“I just spoke to my wife.” He sounded excited. “It was the first time we’ve connected all day.”
“I imagine she was relieved to hear from you.”
She saw his nod, and then he said the oddest thing.
“You loved your husband very much, didn’t you?” he asked, sitting up and leaning toward her, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“Yes.” Her voice wavered slightly, surprised as she was by his question and the instant flash of pain it produced.
“I want my wife and me to have the same kind of relationship you did with your husband.”
The comment touched her heart. “Thank you,” she whispered, warmed by the praise of this stranger who’d become her friend. “How’d you know…I didn’t mention Ron, I don’t think.”
“Ah, but you did,” he said quietly, nestling against his pillow. “You told Kate about the dollhouse your husband built for his granddaughters. It was easy to read between the lines and…well, I could see this Christmas was difficult for you.”
“It’s better now,” she whispered.
He sighed and curled up against the pillow before closing his eyes. “It’s better for me, too.”
“Merry Christmas, Matt.”
“Merry Christmas, Cathy.”
Len purposely waited until the depot was silent. The even rhythm of breathing told him that almost everyone was asleep. His watch said eleven-thirty, which made it ten-thirty in Rawhide. Amy had mentioned playing the piano at the rest home, and he’d waited until he was fairly confident she’d be home.
The phone card he’d paid for on base had long since expired, so he had to use his credit card. The transaction seemed loud enough to wake the entire room, but as far as Len could see, no one stirred.
When the line connected, the phone rang three times, three of the longest rings Len could ever remember hearing. He was about to give up hope when Amy answered.
“Hello.” Her voice sounded breathless and excited at once.
“Merry Christmas, Amy,” he said, speaking in a whisper for fear of disturbing the others.
“Len, Len, is that you?”
“It’s me.”
“Where are you?”
“The train depot,” he said, wishing he had other news to give her.
“Still? Oh, Len, are you ever going to make it home?”
“And miss seeing my girl? Are you nuts? I’ll walk from here to Rawhide if I have to.”
“Oh, Len! I can’t believe this is happening.”
He’d felt much the same way himself most of the day, but somehow everything had changed after Mr. Kemper brought in the Christmas tree. And after the choir had come and the ladies had brought them a meal. And Sam had read the Christmas story…
In the beginning tempers had flared and folks were impatient and short with each other. Then the kindhearted stationmaster had brought that bare sad-looking tree and placed it in the center of the room.
Someone had commented that the stupid tree wasn’t worth the buck Kemper had paid for it.
Len had agreed. It’d taken a five-year-old child to teach them. The minute Kate had placed her hair bow on one sagging limb, the Christmas tree had been magically transformed into something beautiful. Not because of what they’d used to decorate its branches, but because of the effect it’d had on all of them, the way it had brought them together.
Everything had changed from then on. Suddenly they weren’t strangers anymore. Suddenly it was a Christmas like those he’d enjoyed when he was a boy. He’d spent Christmas Eve with strangers who’d become so much more. Strangers who’d become family. Granted, it wasn’t the same as if he’d spent Christmas Eve with Amy, but then he expected to be with her for the rest of his life.
“I’ll be home before you know it,” he promised.
“I’ll be here,” she whispered.
The line was quiet a moment while Len gathered his courage. He’d rather propose when he could look into her eyes and see her reaction as he said the words, but that wasn’t possible. He didn’t think he could wait any longer.
“Did you mean what you said earlier?” he asked. “Do you really love me, Amy Sue?”
“Yes,” she admitted as though confessing to a fault. “I…I probably shouldn’t have said it.”
“Why not?” he asked, raising his voice before he could stop himself.
“Because…well, because we’ve never talked about our feelings and—”
“I love you, too, Amy.”
She did
n’t say anything for so long Len feared they’d been disconnected.
“Amy?”
“I’m here.”
He could tell from the tremble in her voice that she was close to tears. “Amy, listen, I never intended it to happen like this, but then life doesn’t always go the way we plan it. I decided to come home for another reason besides spending Christmas with my family.”
“What?”
“I was hoping…” Despite rehearsing his proposal, he was tongue-tied and nervous.
“You were hoping…” she encouraged.
“To talk to you about something important.”
“Yes?”
“About the two of us.” He continued to improvise, forgetting the carefully worded proposal he’d practiced a hundred times. “I was thinking you and I…that is, if you were interested…that maybe we should get married.”
There was a silence that seemed to go on and on.
“Married,” she finally repeated, sounding stunned.
Len’s hand tightened around the telephone receiver. His nerves were stretched to the limit. “Say something,” he pleaded, all the while wondering if it was possible to get a refund on the diamond if she refused him. His heart sank to his knees; he hadn’t considered Amy’s refusal. In his arrogance he’d assumed she’d scream with delight, maybe even cry a little. The last thing he’d anticipated was no response.
“Amy?” he asked, humble now, wondering how he could have made such a mistake in judgment. He’d noted the reserve in her recently, the fact that he hadn’t gotten a letter in almost two weeks. Other things didn’t add up, either, but he’d pushed his concerns aside each time he spoke with her—although of course their phone calls had been less frequent lately. But whenever he managed to call she’d always sounded so glad to hear from him.
“Is there someone else?” he demanded, his pride rescuing him. “Is that it?”
“Oh, Len, how can you think such a thing?”
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